


turning saints into the sea

by euphrasiefauchelevent



Category: bare: A Pop Opera - Hartmere/Intrabartolo
Genre: (or is it? you decide), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Background Jason/Peter, Gay Awakening, M/M, Repression is stored in the Matt, Unrequited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 15:09:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20155618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/euphrasiefauchelevent/pseuds/euphrasiefauchelevent
Summary: Matt has yet another reason to be jealous of Jason.a "what if" take on the end of "are you there?"





	turning saints into the sea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [evol_love](https://archiveofourown.org/users/evol_love/gifts).

> alternate title: "i went to see bare: a pop opera and all i got was this lousy rarepair"
> 
> for reference - i saw the production at the vaults in london so any aspects of staging or physical appearance that creep into the writing come from there.
> 
> title is, of course, from seminal banger "mr brightside"

Matt’s never been the best dancer. Not in play rehearsals, not at raves and parties, and definitely not when he’s wasted and being whirled around the school chapel by a _ very _ crossfaded Peter Simmonds. They’re a blur of limbs and wine-soaked interjections - “Who’s leading?” “I don’t know!” “Well, who usually leads?!” - careering up and down the aisle like some kind of blasphemous, carnivalesque procession, their laughter and tuneless humming ringing out and echoing off the vaulted ceiling until it sounds like there’s a whole congregation of bitter, drunk Matts and Peters accompanying them in hymnody. It’s a welcome distraction from how fucking miserable that party was, for sure, the thrill of rulebreaking and the oddly comforting feel of Peter’s arms around him chasing away all the loneliness and jealousy that made Matt feel more nauseous than all this alcohol ever could.

Matt doesn’t know exactly who trips over whom - their legs just seem to tangle together all at once, sending their dance clattering to a halt as they both stifle alarmed shouts - but Peter rights himself surprisingly quickly considering his bloodstream must be 50% pot, 50% unconsecrated communion wine right about now, catching Matt and holding him against his chest in a stabilizing, almost protective embrace.

Matt’s heart continues to lurch, like he’s stumbling over and over and over and over and-

“Hey.” Peter props him upright with a soft, musical laugh. “Careful.”

Even though they’re both steady on their feet now, Peter’s arms snake around his back, pulling him a little closer, and he buries his head in Matt’s shoulder. It feels nice. Like they fit together somehow.

Matt still feels like he’s tripping _ over and over and over and over_, like when you’re lying in bed perfectly still and your brain tells you you’re falling and you catapult awake and try so hard to reason with your racing heart.

“Can I tell you something?” Peter says, uncertain. His voice is barely audible, muffled against the fabric of Matt’s shirt.

“Go for it,” Matt says, and it surprises him how thin and reedy his own voice comes out.

Peter takes a deep breath and looks up, stepping away so their bodies are no longer pressed flush against one another. His hands skim clumsily up Matt’s back (it tickles, and sends a weird shiver down his spine) before coming to rest on his shoulders. 

For a moment they make direct eye contact. It feels, for some reason, like Peter’s eyes are burning into Matt. Which doesn’t make sense. They’ve made eye contact like this before, in class, in acting exercises, in casual conversations. Maybe it’s the effort of trying to focus through all the weed and wine making his gaze more intense than usual.

Matt finds himself wondering, memories of the rave flooding back into his mind, if that’s the kind of look he normally reserves for Jason.

Maybe it’s that same effort Matt sees in his eyes that makes Peter give up on the formality after a moment, arms slipping again until they’re wrapped around the back of Matt’s neck. He leans forward. Rests their foreheads together. Lets out another gentle little laugh, like distant church bells.

“Sorry,” he says, apologetically. “I’m really-”

“It’s okay.”

“I didn’t mean to get this-”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Silence.

“What did you want to say?” Matt murmurs.

Peter’s breaths come out in slow shudders, close enough that each exhale blows stifling hot against Matt’s lips.

His eyes are shut for a moment, like he’s trying to concentrate, and then they flicker open again.

Peter has nice eyes. Gentle, with long eyelashes. A little sadness in them, right now, that isn’t normally there.

“Matt, I, um.” Peter stops short and swallows. They’re close enough in height that Peter shouldn’t have to be looking _ up _at him but he is, his eyelids heavy, long lashes like a veil over his wide, sorrowful eyes.

_ Pretty eyes_, says a voice in Matt’s head that he doesn’t recognize, doesn’t sound like him. _ He has really pretty eyes_.

There’s sounds and images from the rave still swirling around in his head along with an emotion Matt can’t identify. Peter and Jason dancing together, way more intimate, closer and stuffier and filled with way more _ heat _ than Matt’s silly waltz, Peter and Jason hidden away, throbbing heart-pounding bass in the distance mimicking the _ thump thump thump _ of their hearts, of Matt’s heart, too, he doesn’t know if it was beating away because of the fear he felt on their behalf or because of this sick feeling that’s still churning away inside of him, Peter and Jason kissing, “_I love you Jason_”, it’s always Jason always fucking _ Jason _ isn’t it, “always the bridesmaid, never the bride,” that’s what Nadia says too fucking often in a taunting sing-song voice in Matt’s ear, and maybe _ that’s _ what this emotion is, this storm bubbling in Matt’s chest, music building and building to an inevitable crashing bass drop, it’s jealousy, aching aching _ aching _ unresolved jealousy, and it’s not like Matt is exactly foreign to the idea of being jealous of Jason but this time feels different and terrifying and more like dagger blows than the usual dull pain because this shouldn’t be something he’s jealous of, not this, oh God anything but _ this_.

Peter’s still staring at him, a cautious, kind hope in his eyes, lips barely cracked apart on the precipice of a word that it looks like he’s struggling to find.

_ Pretty lips, pretty eyes_, that voice in the back of his brain goes, over and over somewhere between a litany and an incessant irritating bassline accompanying that sick swirling jealousy.

Matt looks straight back at him, that voice in his head begging loud enough that he wonders if Peter might actually hear it, _ just this once, just tonight, please oh please let me be someone’s first choice. _

Before he even really realizes or understands what he’s doing, he reaches out and rests one hand on Peter’s cheek and their mouths meet, as clueless and clumsy as their bastardized waltz. Peter’s lips are soft, hopelessly so, and the jealousy peaks, the realization that Jason gets to feel this softness all the time and the knowledge that, right now, this sensation is all Matt’s colliding in ecstatic cacophony.

Maybe the kiss lasts for less than a second, maybe it lasts for several, maybe it goes on for minute after intoxicating minute, but either way it feels all too brief because suddenly Peter’s hands are on his chest, pushing him away (still excruciatingly gentle, is Peter ever anything less than excruciatingly gentle), and Matt’s heart comes plummeting back to earth.

He kissed Peter Simmonds.

He kissed a _ boy_.

He kissed a boy and it was the happiest he’s felt in fucking months or maybe even years and now there’s a new memory joining the rapidly curdling concoction in his mind. 

_ Can a sin be right? _

“Matt?” 

Peter might be frowning. It’s hard to tell. Matt’s vision is hazy and unfocused and he sure as hell doesn’t want to properly look him in the eye right now.

“Shit.” 

He doesn’t feel the word leave his mouth, just hears them echoing in a room that suddenly feels simultaneously too cavernous and far, far too small.

Just as too-small as Peter’s voice when he goes “Matt, that… that wasn’t what I was trying to say, I’m sorry if I-”

“I’m drunk,” Matt blurts out, like it’s an apology.

“You too…?” Peter continues, a note of hopefulness in his voice, and Matt’s pretty sure he’s not referring to the drunkenness.

“No,” Matt says, hastily, as if he’s got any kind of plausible deniability right now. “Not me.”

“_ Matt _-”

“I’m gonna go to bed now,” Matt says. He hopes Peter doesn’t notice the way his voice wavers.

“Matt, wait, _ please_,” Peter says, or maybe Matt just imagines it, imagines the movement of his too-soft lips, imagines Peter wanting him to stay, like anybody would ever beg for him to stay with them.

As he staggers away part of him, that little voice that he barely recognises, doesn’t belong to him, _ shouldn’t _ belong to him, goes _ maybe he’s lonely enough to follow you just this once just tonight _ and a far louder voice _ why the fuck do you want him to follow you you’re not like that you can’t be like that _ and yet another voice louder still freight train tornado subwoofer at a rave those kinds of deafening _ second place to Jason yet again huh can’t get Romeo can’t get Ivy probably won’t fucking get valedictorian can’t get Peter why the hell do you even WANT Peter what’s WRONG with you _

When he closes the door his bedroom is almost suffocatingly quiet in comparison.

He thinks he might be crying but he’s not sure. 

It feels like in movies when there’s an explosion and all the sound cuts out except the ringing of the main character’s ears. 

(as if Matt would ever be the main character, even in his own _ life, God _)

Everything is sticky, silent slow motion as Matt crawls into bed, pulls the covers over his head, and tries to breathe.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading this fic for an obscure fandom & an even more obscure pairing lmao!!
> 
> biggest thanks to rachel @evol_love for finally, after many years of badgering, convincing me to go and see bare & also for validating me when i messaged them like "hey so i kind of feel like there was a capital M Moment between matt & peter..."
> 
> comments always welcomed & appreciated! & come check me out on tumblr @coniello


End file.
